May 3rd, 1998
by DetectiveInspectorSydney
Summary: A slice of information about the Cattermole family, and where they've ended up.


**A/N:**

_CHASER 2 Prompt:_ The Choliya of Uttarakhand; write about a character who is superstitious. The superstition must be a key element of the story and influential in the character's life.

_Additional Prompts:_

3\. (setting) beach

4\. (color) lapis lazuli

9\. (song) Music of the Night- Phantom of the Opera

-The story is roughly 1,400 words.

_Silently the senses, abandon their defenses. _Mary Cattermole sinks back into her pillow with a long sigh. _Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. _She can hear the waves, not so much lapping against the shore, as overwhelming it. She finds the she has come to better appreciate the word war in the last eight months.

Lapis Lazuli, Ellie had said of the sea's color when they'd first arrived. Ellie has a thing for rocks. She'd had to leave behind her ample collection when they fled, which included an actual Lapis Lazuli, her prized possession. The color, Mary had found, varies a bit depending on the sky it's reflecting, but Lapis Lazuli is generally a good word for it. It is a vast color spectrum in and of itself.

_Turn your face away from the garish light of day_

_Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light_

_And listen to the music of the night_

Mary would admit to being a nervous person by nature. Her father has often told her that she tends to catastrophize. And she, like everyone else, had her rituals (superstitions her son Alfred insists). "Music of the Night" is one of them.

* * *

She and Reggie were just over a year married in the fall of 1986, and they were set up in a flat in Muggle London. Reggie mostly worked nights, he was new to the Ministry and didn't have the seniority for anything else. Mary was pregnant with their first child, and they both were over the moon. At night, after Reggie had left for his shift, she would sit up (after a long day of work herself) and draw out plans for the nursery, do swatches, and make shopping lists, etc. They had a young neighbor, and somewhere in late October, early November, Mary found her nightly rituals, accompanied by a soundtrack. It wasn't like anything she had grown up listening to, muggle born or not. It was repetitive, classical, but also sounded a bit like Queen. After a few of replay, she gathered that it was a musical, or at the very least a concept album, because the songs were telling a story. What with traffic, the noises of the building, and her neighbor not being completely inconsiderate, Mary didn't always catch every line, and so it took her awhile to piece together the story. She didn't want to make her neighbor self-conscious, so she never asked her, but Mary gathered something about a an who calls himself the Phantom of the Opera, being a very tortured person, and seducing a young soprano. It was vaguely disturbing, not at all the sort of thing Mary would normally go for, but it was oddly soothing, for herself, and the baby. "Music of the Night" was her favorite. Even through the walls, the vocals were lovely, and if the baby was doing somersaults, they usually settled down once the music started to play.

This ritual persisted well into February. The baby was due in a couple of weeks, and Mary and Reginald had still not come up with a name. February 28th, 1987 the music did not come. The music did not always turn on at the same time every day. Sometimes, Mary would fall asleep in her bed, only to awaken at 2 in the morning to the tale end of "Masquerade". It was entirely dependent on when her neighbor was getting ready for bed, but the album always played, at least once, all the way through. Mary sat up as long as she could, waiting. The baby kept nudging her with their foot, but eventually gave up and went to sleep. She did too, around six Reggie came in. "Have you heard the music?" Mary asked him, only half conscious. Reggie just chuckled, not quite knowing how to respond.

Later that morning, the landlady, Ms. Smith, came up to tell them that their neighbor had died the evening before. She'd suffered an aneurysm, completely out of the blue. Ms. Smith had only discovered her when she'd her the cat yowling, and had entered on impulse. Some hunch. The coroner's office had already been by to collect the body, and the girl's family would be by to start collecting her things the next day.

Mary cried for at least an hour after Ms. Smith left, then she walked down to the music store a couple blocks from the flat, and bought a copy of _The Phantom of the Opera _and also a tape deck.

Baby Maisie Cattermole was born the next day, named for the neighbor whose music she'd enjoyed, but never met. Maisie and Mary have listened to "Music of the Night" before bedtime every evening since. Mary has never been able to name exactly what she's keeping at bay, and Reggie never asks, he learns to love this ritual along with everything else about his wife.

* * *

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams_

_Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before_

_Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!_

_And you'll live as you've never lived before_

Mary huffs a laugh. The song continues. It's amazing how much meaning can be found in a song that she's listened to approximately 4,000 times. The lapis lazuli ocean continues to wash away at the beach, she should be in Heaven. Tomorrow the children will once again beg to go down to the water, despite it being much too cold to swim. What could be more idyllic? Her spirit should be soaring, but for the anchor attached to it. She is living her darkest dreams. She's living her nightmares.

She turns over, and sees her three children asleep in the bed across the room. They'd fled with a couple of small suitcases, their three children, and all the money Reggie had managed to transfer out of their account at Gringotts. Mary doesn't even have her wand anymore. They are holed up now, in Málaga of all places. At least English tourists are common, so they don't stick out much, and there is a small wizarding community that has been generally helpful in getting them settled. Still, her uncle had been in the International Brigades* during the Spanish Civil War, and the layers of irony in the whole situation continue to weigh heavily on her.

"You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night." Reg sings the last lines as the song fades, and he lays down beside her. Michael Crawford he is not, but at least he can carry a tune. Mary relaxes into his embrace, not totally conscious of the fact that she has been waiting until he came to bed to fall asleep, keeping an automatic vigil against the ever present spectre of danger.

* * *

As expected, the children wake around seven the next morning, and immediately insist on going to the beach. Mary and Reggie are able to negotiate breakfast, and a strong cup of tea for both parents, before facing the day ahead. It's after 10 when they finally reach the beach. The skies have cleared, lending the water to a lighter shade on the lapis lazuli spectrum. The beach, is anything but clear. Mary has never seen so many people out at once in the whole time they've been here. Everyone is wearing bright colors, many aren't wearing swimming suits or trunks, and it is pandemonium like Mary has seen only one other time in her life. A middle aged man that Mary recognizes as one of the few wizards in the area, runs up to Mary, lifting her off the ground shouting-

"¡Está muerto! ¡Harry Potter lo mató! ¡Lord Voldemort está muerto!"**

Mary doesn't really speak Spanish, but she's catches "Harry Potter" "Lord Voldemort" and "Muerto". It's over. She knows it's over. The Boy Who Lived has saved them all. She bursts into tears, laughing and sobbing at the same time. It's over, they can go home.

The party on the beach lasts through the day, and well into the next morning. At about 3 in the morning, Mary stumbles back to bed, perhaps she shouldn't have had that clara***. Reggie had taken the children up a couple of hours ago, and let Mary stay out. She deserves it. Mary all but collapses besides him, and begins snoring softly. "Music of the Night" is not playing. Later that day the Cattermoles start packing. Then they're on their way home. It is May 3rd, 1998.

**A/N:**

*** The International Brigades were paramilitary groups sent from different parts of (mostly) Europe by Communist International to aid in the fight against Franco during the Spanish Civil War.**

**** "He is dead! Harry Potter killed him! Lord Voldemort is dead!"**

***** Clara- a popular drink in Spain. Beer mixed with carbonated lemonade.**


End file.
